Behind Those Dark Brown Eyes
by NeishaImMyMainPriorityAyers
Summary: There's no one you can trust, No one but yourself. Nessie witnessed her parent's murder, now her brother and she have been on the run. Everywhere she go they found her, there's no where to hide. She knows this will never be over. Not until she finally take them out for good or until they kill her instead. Secrets revealed, Lies told. Murders continue and love dies. RATED T UNTIL...
1. Preview

**Hum,... how can you apologize for not updating a story other than uploading a new one! So this is a new story I have I have in mind, so I hope you enjoy.**

**(Please ignore any mistakes or errors in my grammar or writing,but I am my beta!)**

**So I say again, Please enjoy! :D**

**_A special preview_**

Her head pounded as she rested her forehead against the cool wood of her hotel room door. Her eyes closed tightly shut as the throbbing of her brain was unbearable.

She knew it was all because of what went on today. All the shit she saw. She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes a little tighter, hoping her actions would help with the pain. It didn't. She clutched her backpack, which held her a few outfits, to her chest in hopes to stop her fast beating heart.

Slowly, she opened her eyes to see the small golden numbers that was possibly glued on the hotel door. Room 123 was the room she would be staying in for a couple of days. A motel is what she had been converted to. A one bedroom, twin size bed, no view, a busted pipe, and an odor that smell so bad, she has to stuff her nose just walking through the door. She was used to living in areas like this.

She was happy to get away from everything. Away from the police watching her every move, away from that overwhelming feeling of defeat, and the feeling of giving up. She was ecstatic to get away from that feeling most of all. It's just she hated spending those days here along with her baby brother, Reynold. Not knowing how long she will be staying there, how long she will be away from him, was torturing.

Her heart throbbed as she remember as she had to leave them with those strange cops, who promised her they would look after him. She hate promises. No one can keep them. Especially her. She promised her brother that she would never leave him and she left him, she lied to the one person who never lied to her.

She didn't know how long she was standing there but when she heard the sound of a male voice, she was sure she had a semi heart attack.

"Are you okay ma'am?" She did an entire 180 and turned to face an elderly man, who looked to be in his late sixties. She nodded her head yeah and he looked at her as if he didn't believe her. "Are you sure?" She nodded her head again flinching from the pain. "Do you need anything because my wife and I are in the room right across from you and—"

"Jack, what's wrong?" An elder woman said as she came out of the room the old man just said he and his wife was staying in.

"Oh, it's nothing honey." He said as the woman walked toward him. "I think this woman needs help. I think she's been kicked out of her motel."

The old woman looked at her with such pity in her eyes. "Is that true sweetheart?"

"No ma'am it's not," she hate how older people can assume things that's not even right. "Its just been a hard day."

"Yeah I know what you mean." The old woman said.

"Yes, so if you would excuse me," she said as she pulled out her motel key. "I think I should get in now."

"Well OK then,"

"See you later miss," She didn't wait until the old couple walked into their room because with a talk with them, it really got her exhausted. She slid the key through the key hole of the door and twisted it. Slowly she walked through the door and her body ached. She placed her bag on the table, which stood next to the door, and was surprise that her body allowed her to moved, but she needed to lay down.

She didn't see it coming. She didn't even know she wasn't along. She was pushed against the wall and because her body was weak from the pain, her body held no fight. Forcefully her hands were twisted behind her back. She bit her lip to hold back her scream.

"You don't know how hard it was to get to you," A male voice whispered in her ear. She could feel her nose burn as the horrible odor of his breath cause her stomach to turn. "Every where I looked, the police was everywhere. They were following you as if you were the first lady of the motherfucking America!" She could feel the vomit coming up her throat. It was as if he had chewed on garbage and tuna juice.

She tried to get her muscles to work, and to get him to release her from his grip, but the harder she tried, the tighter his grip became and more painfully it was on her arms.

Her stomach dropped as she felt his rough, dry hands slither up her thigh as she regret wearing a skirt. She shook more but stopped momentarily. Her arms felt as if it was going to snap as he raised it higher above her back. She bit her lip tighter and she could taste the blood as the skin on her lip ripped open against her teeth.

"May as well have a little fun, with you before I kill you," He whispered seductively in her ear. She groaned as she tried one more time trying to release herself. He pressed a knife against her throat causing her to gasp."Move and I'll slice your throat," he threatened.

He roughly raised her skirt and she clutched her fist knowing in her most desperately moment she couldn't defend herself. She knew if she moved the blade wouldn't hesitate to slit her throat.

He pulled her closer placing his manhood against her butt and her heart jumped with fear. He breathed against her neck as his hand moved closer toward her area.

She clutched her hand so tightly that she her nails would leave prints. Not only was he going to rape her, but she had no doubt in her mind he was going to kill her also.

Roughly, he grabbed her area through the cotton of her underwear and she couldn't help but think, "Not again,"


	2. Chapter 1: A Way Out

**_Full Summary_**

**_From the time she was eight years old, Nessie Weber has always known she wasn't an ordinary girl. All the other boys and girls she grew up around didn't have the ability to persuade people to do what she wants by looking into their eyes. Her parents didn't, her brother doesn't; no one does but her. But her life has always been shit. From the time she was eight, she's been running from the people who murdered her parents. Now she's tired. After nine years, she took her baby brother, Michael, (who she has raised on her own) to a small town in Kansas hoping no one would find them, leaving everything behind her and moving on. But things happened unexpectedly when she got there. She met and fell in love with young police officer, Shun Night, and has this strong unexplained connection with the mysterious Jacob Black. When her neighbor was brutally murdered and Nessie started receiving strange phone calls, she knows they have found her. She knows this will never be over, not until either she finally takes them out for good… or until they kill her instead._**

**_Secrets revealed, Lies told. Murders continue and love dies._**

**_Chapter 1_**

Nessie Weber, that's the name I grew up with. That's the name I've known for as long as I can remember. Personally, I never thought it fit me. I remember my mother telling me the reason for giving me that name. Aside from telling me I was named after the women who raised her and her best friend, she told me it means I have a friendly, sociable, charming nature. This is far from true, because I could not care less about anyone other that Michael. Michael is my 8-year-old brother, who is my sunshine in this dark, cold, cruel world. Michael lives up to the name our parents gave him. A clever minded, good business judgment, a sense of responsibility, and appreciates the finer things of life, and he lives up to all of that so well. He is beyond smart for his age.

Michael grew up with out parents. The only person he has known his whole life is I.

Michael was only 3 months old when our parents left us, and I was only 8. We stayed with our grandmother until she died of breast cancer 5 years later. We were alone and there was no one else to care for us. We were at risk of foster care and never seeing each other again. That was when our Aunt, my mother's sister I never knew existed, took us in. She made it very clear that the only reason she ever took us in was for the money the state was paying her. We didn't exist in her eyes.

I was 13 when I got my first job; Sweeping up hair in a local barber shop in town, getting paid $4.25 an hour. This was enough to give Michael the things he needed. I have basically been raising him on my own. When I was 16, I quit my job at the barber shop and started working at a local restaurant called '_Tiffany's Home Cooking'_ as a waitress. There I was getting paid 7 dollars an hour which was better than the barber shop job. This is how we live now. I send Michael to school with the same pair of shoes each day because I only have enough money to buy him one pair a year. Each day I silent make a promise to myself. **_Our lives will get better soon, I promise._**

* * *

I lie on the twin size bed and watch his beautiful face as he slept. His small chest moved up and down constantly as a small and very unnoticeable snore escaped from him. My breath hitched when his face scrunched into a small frown. What was he dreaming about? I raised my hand and touch his face gently. The creases that the frown made disappeared as his body relaxed and I smiled thinking about how much my touch soothed him.

My hands moved from his face to his dark brown hair. His hair was so soft and it reminded me so much of Father. I continued to look at his peaceful face as I thought of how Father never got to see him grow up. Father would be so proud of me. So proud of the way I have grown up, so proud of how I raised Michael. I smiled at the words he would say. "I am so proud of you, Nessie."

I sniffled and closed my eyes tightly as I tried so hard to hold back the tears. I will not cry, I haven't cried in so long, and I will not start now! My eyes flew open as I felt a small warm hand caress my cheek. "Nessie, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice full of sleep. "Why does it look like you're so sad?" His huge hazel eyes bored into mines. I couldn't help but chuckle as he tried so hard to keep his eyes opened. "Are you going to cry?" I couldn't help but notice the hopefulness in his voice. Michael has never seen me cry, because I will not show him that crying is the way to go, I haven't done it yet, and I will not start it now.

I chuckled. "No, I am not," I said as I pulled the covers higher over his shoulders. "Now go back to sleep," He didn't hesitate to close his eyes. Minutes later, I was listening to his small snore. I didn't notice my eyes were falling until I heard the slam of the door somewhere in the house causing me to nearly jump out of my skin.

I looked at Michael to see he wasn't affected by the noise. I let out a frustration sigh before getting out of the bed, body aching from the long hour shift I had to endure. I slipped on my slippers that had a hole at the tip of it and was ripped at the bottom, before walking out of the door.

"That stupid bitch, don't never know how to clean up shit!" She screamed. I jumped as I heard the dishes slam against each other. "Bitch! Wake the fuck up bitch: I know you hear me!" So she was making the noise to wake me up. I didn't hesitate to walk into the kitchen to see my pissed off Aunt.

"You're going to wake Michael up with all the yelling you doing," I said calmly. She turned around so quickly, I'm sure if I would've blinked I would have missed it. "He has to get up in the morning for school, and he needs..."

SLAP!

"Shut the fuck up bitch!" she roared in my face, breath stinking of alcohol. Great, she's drunk, and she just slapped me. Again. My hand was on my cheek as I stared at her. If looks could kill, that bitch would be dead at the bottom of the sea. "Why the fuck is my kitchen looking like this! Why the fuck is the dishes not done, and what's this shit on the wall! I take you motherfuckers in and give y'all dumb asses a home and fed y'all asses a daily meal and this how you do me, you..."

I walked away. That bitch needs to take her meds if she thinks that I WILL CLEAN UP AFTER HER DIRTY ASS! She is the reason her kitchen looked the way it does. Almost out of the kitchen, her scoff was followed by a push. I fell toward the wall and the throbbing pain on my head started. The warm sticky substance oozed out of my forehead, down my cheek, dripping on my shirt. Shocked, I looked up at her.

For a slight moment I thought I also saw shock in her eyes, but as quickly as I saw it, the quickly it vanished. She yelled again but I couldn't hear her over the ringing sound in my ear from the anger I was feeling. **_I WILL NOT HIT HER. I WILL NOT HIT HER!_**

Slowly, I got up off the floor, calming myself down as I did. She looked at me, as we both stood the same height, 5'7", daring me to raise a finger.

I rolled my eyes and turned around again trying to make my way back to the room where Michael was. That didn't stop her from grabbing me by my long midnight jet black hair throwing me to the wall, causing me to hit my thigh against the table as I went down. "Slut, you will learn not to walk away from me!" She roared. I sat up ignoring the terrible pain in my thigh, knowing it will bruise.

_"Why are you letting her do this to you?" _A voice in my head yelled.

_"Because she took Michael and me in when we needed a place to stay," _I argued back.

_"Just one smack! Shit just one punch in the fucking face will make her understand."_

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a small voice. "Nessie," My eyes jolted to the kitchen door frame where Michael stood with the black Teddy bear my parents had given him as a baby, in his arms. His eyes were full of panic as he looked at me and I know he noticed the blood oozing out of my forehead. "Why'd you do that for?!" he screeched as he tried to make his way toward me.

But he didn't get close as she grabbed him by his shirt pulling him back causing him to fall back against the wall also. "You little bitch need to go back to your room and take your dumb ass back to sleep!"

Michael looked up at her full of hate. I didn't miss the way his bottom lip trembled. I didn't hesitate. I jumped up and quickly made my way toward her. I grabbed her by her "want to be" blond hair and ran her face to the wall. "Don't ever put your hands on him again!" I roared my body trembling from the things I wanted to do to her.

As she was on the floor, I walked toward Michael and grabbed his hand. I didn't look back at her, but I know she was getting up. "Bitch you put your hands on me!" she screamed. "I will fucking kill you!" I ignored her threats as I made my way to the room.

"Quickly Michael," I said as I released his hand. "Get as much as you can gather." I made my way toward the dressers Michael and I shared and pulled out the garbage bags I keep in there for when I decide to leave. Aunt was still yelling in the kitchen, throwing things, probably glass as we heard it shatter. I don't know how long I was throwing things in the trash bags, because Michael and I really don't have a lot of things to pack, but I no longer heard her yelling or throwing things.

"Okay are you ready?" I asked him as I placed the trash bag on the bed. He nodded and I looked at what he was carrying. In his right hand, he carried Max, his teddy bear, and in his left he carried his bag, his two favorite toys and his favorite rock he found at recess one day at school. "Are you sure you can carry all that?" He nodded again before looking down at what he carried. Finally he decided he wouldn't be able to carry them all and decided to leave his toys and rock behind. I couldn't help how heavy my heart felt. No child should have to give up their toys. "I'll get you some more toys, and I'm sure you can find another rock."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his ears as it usually would when we were staying with grandmother. "Yea, I know,"

I grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. "Okay, let's go," I pulled him out of the room and made it to the kitchen door before I remembered something. "Stay right here," I told him and he nodded. I rushed back to the room and moved the dresser. I grabbed the book like storage compact and removed the key from around my neck. I opened it to see if everything was still there as I left it. I sighed a huge sigh of relief, it was all there. My I.D., Michael's and my birth certificates, medical and social security cards, about 2 thousand dollars that I have saved for a time like this, and a sheet of paper grandmother gave me. It has the code for when I am ready to get my hands on my college funds from my parents' savings. Nearly 50 thousand dollars is in that account and if it comes down to me having to get it, then I will.

I closed the book back shut and placed the key back around my neck.

Somehow my eyes landed on the mirror in front of me. How could I forget the huge cut on my forehead? My hand reached up to touch the dark bruise that formed around the cut. I flinched in pain and quickly retrieved my hands. Dried bloodstained my cheeks and my eyelashes. The hem of my white t-shirt was ruined.

It can go in the trash with the rest.

I studied my face longer. My skin no longer held that beautiful healthy smooth caramel like skin when I was younger, but instead my skin wall dull and dry, no longer beautiful. My dark brown eyes no longer held that sparkle they once held when I looked at pictures of younger me. I looked happy. Now when I look at my self, my eyes have a pale look in them. It no longer looks like the delicious chocolate that I grew up loving. Now it looks like dead leaves that are all dried up and no longer living. That's how I feel, like I have no purpose, there is no other reason to live, as if I should just give up. But every time, I think like this, Michael pops up in my head. What will happen if I am no longer there to fight for him or if I am no longer his rock to lean on: what will his life be like?

Quickly I removed my eyes from my reflection and walked toward Michael. He was now sitting on the floor as he waited for me to return. "Ready to go, sport," I asked. He nodded and stood up. He reached for the bags and I noticed his shoes were untied. "Hey wait, tie your shoes."

I don't know if it was destiny, or just luck, or that Michael wasn't suppose to leave me just yet. The moment he bent down to tie his show, a butcher knife flew above his head and ended in the wall inches away from him. Shocked, he fell flat on his butt. If he had stood for 2 seconds longer the knife would've been in him instead of the wall.

"Bitch, you must be out your fucking mind if you think you can just hit me and leave!" She roared as she stood by the kitchen table.

My sight was gone, so were my senses. I couldn't feel my body, I couldn't tell if I were even breathing, but there was one thing I was aware of. My thoughts, "**_THIS FUCKING BITCH IS DEAD!"_**

Red and black spots were all I saw before I could register that my body had already lunged itself at her.

She could take every cent I make, she could take everything I own, shit that bitch could take away my goddamn life, but the day she threaten to take away the one thing I love in this fucking world, is the day that motherfucker dies!

"Freeze," someone yelled and as I was inches away from her throat someone grabbed me. I struggled against their hold as I tried my hardest to get to that bitch, but they were stronger. As another police officer grabbed her, I lost it.

"No!" I screamed. That was supposed to be me. I am supposed to get to her. I am supposed to "Kill her," but she was gone.

* * *

_**Sorry it took forever to upload, its just school has been kicking my butt. so please be patient with me. Thank you!**_


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